


Stitchin' Up Baby

by Bebedora



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Bargaining, Blood, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Laguna is such a baby, Stitches, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019, Whumptober Day 11--STITCHES, but it's still whump because there's blood, field medicine, pre-game, takes place during the first sorceress war, this may be the lightest whump I've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 04:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20988509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bebedora/pseuds/Bebedora
Summary: It's just stitches, Laguna...Whumptober Day 11--STITCHES





	Stitchin' Up Baby

Stitchin’ Up Baby

[[Whumptober prompt—STITCHES]]

_“Seriously, Laguna. It’s not that bad.”_

He stared down at his thigh, oozing wound visible through the gash in his uniform pants. There was an awful lot of blood. “Not that bad? Kiros, I’m dyin’!” 

Steady hands applied pressure. Laguna winced, cried out in pain. The hands pressed harder. Surely on purpose.

“It’s your own damn fault, you know.” Ward’s tone was equal parts stern and laughing. “What did you think was going to happen when you tried to slither under razor-wire?”

“Not this!” Laguna screwed his eyes shut. He was certain he’d bleed out.

Kiros leaned in close, prodding the wound—maybe just a little too hard. “You’re going to need stitches, though.”

“No way! I’m afraid of needles!”

“You should be afraid of infection!” Kiros’ tone was laden with exasperation. “We’re out in the middle of nowhere, with Hyne-knows-what kind of pathogens lurking on every surface. I’m not lugging your corpse back to Deling if you die of stupidity. Ward. Hold him down.”

“Wait, what? _Here?_ In the forest?” Laguna tried to scuttle away but was no match for the brute strength of his friend. 

Everything happened in a flurry of terrified chaos. Ward pressing his face into the musty dirt. The acidic stinging of antiseptic splashed on the wound. Kiros’ deft hands as he stabbed a suture needle from their field medical kit into the meat of his thigh. Again, and again and again. No numbing medicine.

Laguna howled. Begged to be set free. Bargained. He’d buy Ward a case of beer—make that two—if he just let him up. The wound would heal on its own, he was sure. And if he got an infection, he’d go to the doctor with no fight—and even let them give him an antibiotic shot. 

Either they didn’t hear him—or they didn’t care.

Ward kept up the pressure, eventually sitting on Laguna to ensure he didn’t flail. And man, did he try to flail.

He saw stars. In fact, he was pretty sure he saw Hyne himself. Laguna was quite certain he wouldn’t survive this ordeal. He mentally went over his will, hoping he included his mother as a beneficiary. Because these two monsters certainly weren’t going to profit from his untimely death. 

_“All done…man, are you a baby.”_

Ward finally released him as Kiros busied himself cleaning the suture supplies. Laguna struggled to catch his breath. There was no _way _it was over. He tentatively cracked open his eyes. Birds flew overhead, just visible through the forest canopy. He gingerly sat up, his sternum aching. Ward’s ass really did a number on his chest. He didn’t _have to_ sit on him like that. Jerk.

He gazed at his leg, a tiny splotch of blood seeping through the gauze Kiros had taped over his handiwork. It didn’t look so bad now.

“Remember this next time you decide to ‘just have a quick look’ at an obviously off-limits building.” Ward crossed his arms over his massive chest, narrowing his eyes at his friend.

Laguna rubbed the back of his neck. Man, did his thigh ache. “All I wanted to do was explore…”

“…and that almost always ends with you regretting that decision.”

**Author's Note:**

> Every single one of these Whumptober prompts that I *should not be* writing because I have a book deadline is Saber_Wing’s fault. Also, she’s an awesome beta.


End file.
